As he pinched her nipple and tunneled back into the tight channel, he panted at the back of her neck, “Come!”
Her world exploded like a supernova again. Tears of relief and release burst forth. Luc had devastated her, scraped her raw. And still, he kept at her, thick and hard and demanding as tears streamed down her cheeks, until she possessed no more buffers between her husband and her battered heart.
Chapter Fourteen
THE Sunday following their wedding, Alyssa leaned against the doorjamb of the master bedroom and watched Luc pack the last of his suitcase. She’d lived alone for a decade or more. Solitude had always been a comfort. Luc had moved into her house the day after their wedding. It was logical, given that, between his upcoming TV show and his appearances, he’d be traveling, while she was tied to Lafayette by the club and the restaurant. But him living in her personal space, her making room in her closet, bathroom, and drawers, all seemed weird. He was neater than her. And he ironed, which was a big bonus. But for the first few days, she’d felt invaded—home, body, and heart.
Now, watching him prepare to leave, Alyssa had to swallow down sadness. She was going to miss Luc, probably more than she should. She’d grown accustomed to seeing him in Bonheur’s kitchens, watching over her during Sexy Sirens’ wee hours. Two days ago, his publicist had released the news of their wedding. Since then, Luc had whisked her to her car each night, tightly holding her against his side. She’d gotten used to him fixing her a light snack before bed, his comforting presence beside her as she slept, inevitably waking to his delicious, addicting touch and the way he kept her on orgasm overload.
All that would be gone for the next two weeks. Of course it wasn’t the end of the world, but somehow being away from him made her jittery and anxious.
“I’ll call you when I get in,” he promised.
“Thanks.”
“You’re feeling okay today?”
Alyssa nodded. “A little tired, but that’s normal.”
“Don’t work too hard. Sadie’s watching you for me.”
“She’s a tattletale.” She crossed her arms over her chest in a mock pout.
“Which is why I chose her to keep me informed.” Luc zipped up his suitcase and set it on the floor. “I’ll be back to spend Thanksgiving week with you and go to your doctor appointment the following week.”
The first meeting with her obstetrician. The first time to hear her baby’s heartbeat. “I appreciate you being here for me to lean on.”
He crossed the room and took her face in his hands. Determined dark eyes bored into her. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
God, when he spoke to her, in that voice, with that concern on his face, he absolutely melted her. He must know that.
“Before I go, I have something for you.”
She stared, all frowns and confusion as he turned away and pulled something out from behind his briefcase, which leaned against the wall. It was a box roughly the size of a loaf of bread, wrapped in thick foil paper that shimmered with small silver scallops. An elegant white bow topped the gift.
Luc handed it to her. “It’s a belated wedding gift.”
“A gift? You didn’t have to—”
“But I wanted to.”
Swallowing down a lump of emotion, she removed the bow and tore through the wrapping paper to reveal a plain brown box. After wrestling with the cardboard, she pulled out the contents and gasped. Inside was a picture frame in the shape of two silver rings entwined. On the left, a picture of her in her wedding dress. On the right, a picture of their wedding kiss. In the middle, where the two rings overlapped, he’d had their first names and their wedding date engraved.
“It’s gorgeous!”
She almost choked on a mixture of gratitude and love. Their marriage wasn’t perfect. They were still getting to know each other. But Luc was trying. She was still holding back. Then again, sometimes she caught him staring at her, sometimes he thought too long before he answered her, and she sensed that maybe he was too . . .
“You like it?”
Tears threatened, and she tried to blink them away. “I love it. Thank you.”
Luc took it from her hands. “I thought maybe you could put it here, on the dresser.” He set it on the long, rectangular piece on the wall opposite the bed. “That way, while I’m gone, you could look at it.”
And think of me. He didn’t say the words, but Alyssa heard them. Why would he ask unless he cared, at least a little? How could she refuse him?
“That’s perfect,” she murmured, making her way to his side and wrapping her hand around the steely strength of his biceps.
He turned her into his arms. Softly, he kissed her mouth, and like every other time Luc touched her, she found her will dissolving. He made her warm and weak, enthralled her completely.
With a grunt of frustration, he pulled away. “If I do any more of that, I won’t make my flight. I can just see me trying to explain that I missed the first taping because I couldn’t manage to stop fucking my wife.”
She laughed. She’d done so little of that in years. Luc was one incredibly sexy man, but living with him now . . . she was beginning to see a whole side of his humor that added a dimension to her attraction.
Every day, she fell a bit more. So damn dangerous, this bottomless pit of feeling. And still, she couldn’t stop.
“I don’t need anyone blaming me for anything else. I’ve already got half the women of Lafayette pissed at me. Don’t start dragging California bigwigs into the snake pit.”
Luc smiled vaguely before his expression settled into something serious. “I have to say something before I go. Peter’s been quiet since he’s been out on bail.”
“I hope his daddy has a tight leash on him now.”
“If anything scares you—anything—don’t hesitate to call me.”
“You’ll be two thousand miles away. I’ll manage. I’m wearing my big-girl panties.”
“For big-girl panties, they always seem very . . . small.” He leered, brushing a hand up under her skirt and cupping her bare cheek, then sighed. “And I know you’re self-sufficient. Photographers have been a little annoying in the last few days, but I’m sure they’ll follow me to L.A., rather than stay here to hound you. Still, if you have any trouble, call me.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she mocked.
“Am I being overprotective?” He winced.
“A touch.”
He sighed. “I’ll try to back off. But . . . call me if you need to. Or want to.”